The Vacated Mind
by Senna Rose
Summary: Tragedy strikes for Misao during Obon week one summer, and she can't remember what happened, but it all slowly comes back to her. Now, someone wants her to forget what happened, even if it means convincing her she's crazy . . .
1. Default Chapter

Author's notes: This is probably my thousandth attempt at a Rurouni Kenshin fan fiction, but only the first that I've actually decided to go through with, and I've finally worked up the courage to post it here. I'd really appreciate it if you gave this story and I a chance. I'm not going to beg you, but everyone wants their stories read, right? ^^

This story is going to be a mix of mystery and horror. It will mostly revolve around Misao and the Oniwabanshuu, but I may yet throw the others in somewhere; it depends. I've made this chapter short so the length wouldn't intimidate anyone. ^^ Remember; try to give it a chance, please.

Enjoy!

**The Vacated Mind**

**Chapter One **

_ Misao trailed down the street, moneybag clutched tightly in hand. She didn't have much, but there was no doubt she would need it later. Be tough, Misao, she thought. Be tough._

_Today, Misao Makimachi was on her own._

_ Kyoto was surprisingly quiet, even for early morning. There were many people outside, of course--there always were--but still it was unusual, the awkward silence that hung in the air._

_ "Eeek!"_

_ The sudden cry broke through the thick wall of silence like a hammer breaking through glass. The townspeople looked up from their work, and children began to cry. Everyone turned to the source of the scream._

_ A plump young woman, rage incredibly obvious on her face, raised her large hand above the head of a short, slim old man. "Go away!" yelled the woman, "Get _away_!" Her hand was frozen in the air, ready to strike._

_ "Please! I need you help!" the old man pleaded. "My--" When she struck him, he stammered back several paces, trying severely not to drop the small bundle his arms were wrapped around._

_ This was just across the street from where Misao Makimachi stood. She watched in horror as the age-weathered man fell to the ground. He held to himself an object covered in a wool blanket; after a moment, though, Misao realized that this was not an object--but a small child! Almost naturally, it's face turned to Misao, red and panic-stricken. Metallic eyes stared at her. It suddenly gave Misao the overwhelming feeling of fear, and she cowered back, hoping that it would turn its gaze elsewhere._

_ It didn't. But soon the brazen luster faded from its eyes, and the child turned its head away quickly. Misao let out a breath she had been holding. She contemplated silently whether or not she had even seen the eyes glow in the first place._

_ Still watching, she observed the old man raising sad, tired eyes to the woman who still stood over him. "Please, miss," he said, "My granddaughter is ill, and--" But the woman had now walked into the safety of her home, shutting the door behind her. Tears glistened in the old man's eyes as he hoisted himself off the ground._

_ Misao turned away; there was nothing to see anymore. She hated when others were treated badly, but the old man had brought it upon himself--to think, asking a high-class woman for medical assistance when there certainly had to be a doctor's clinic around here somewhere! And besides, Misao had given up on helping anyone other than herself. There was just no sense in it anymore._

_ Still, she couldn't shake those beady little eyes from her mind._

_ Without thinking, she turned back to where the scene had been. The old man and the child were gone. However, she scanned the street until her eyes finally locked with the man's. They were a good distance from each other, but Misao felt as though they were the only two remaining on earth right now. When she averted her eyes, his mouth broke into a wide grin, revealing several yellow teeth. She forced herself to look back at him. Metallic, beady eyes--the grin--they were the _man's _eyes! Misao hadn't realized before, when she first saw him again, that the child was not with him this time, and she hardly noticed now fear. She didn't know what to do--she was too scared to even think._

_ But when she felt a presence behind her, she had another fear. It was the child--she _knew _it was the child! Afraid of what might happen to her if she stayed any longer, she ran, bolted away as fast as she could, and didn't look back._

All of that had been a week ago. It had been quite a scare for Misao, and after that, she'd gone running back to the Aoiya. She wasn't even sure why she had wanted to run away in the first place. Misao remembered the incident very clearly still--every detail. She sure had a lot of memory space for it now, anyway, ever since that one day two months ago. That day when . . .

She didn't even _know_ what had happened that day! Dr. Kishimoto only told her that something terrible had happened to her, and that was all. They'd planted that stupid word--"terrible"--into Misao's head, and she had to pretend that she believed it. The truth was: she didn't know what to believe; she didn't remember anything before waking up in the doctor's clinic. And nobody was even helping her out. They wanted her to remember, but they wouldn't _help_ her remember. In fact, it sometimes seemed like they wanted to avoid her; she hardly ever saw the people she lived with, those who were supposedly her "family." Maybe they were always like that. Or maybe they didn't like her. Maybe they were plotting to kill her.

Misao would have laughed at herself had she known it was not true. But it _could_ be true, it could all be true. What did she even know about them? Nothing. She knew nothing about them, aside from the fact that they were all members of the elite ninja group, the Oniwabanshuu, under the leadership of the seemingly anti-social Aoshi Shinomori. The only word he'd ever said to her was "hello."

Now _that_ made Misao laugh. The man's perpetual silence put his looks to shame. She admitted to herself that she did have a bit of a crush on him--he certainly was handsome enough--but in a way he was too mysterious. The woman named Omasu had once mentioned that Aoshi and Misao had been close when they were younger, but Misao didn't remember anything about him. She didn't remember anything about any of them. Which brought her back to the point--

Could she trust them?

Right now . . . right now, she couldn't trust anyone. There was just too much to worry about, too much at stake. For instance, that evil man and his wicked granddaughter--if she was even his granddaughter at all. Misao couldn't shake her run-in with them from her mind, and she had the sick feeling that they would meet again any day now. After all, they had warned her that they would be back.

The warning had come in the form of a note. Misao had found it lying on the desk in her bedroom only two days before, which made her all the more frightened--they had been in her room, had been in the Aoiya.

The note was succinct and to the point: "We'll be back. Wait for us!" It was simple enough to have been a prank, a joke played by a member of the Oniwabanshuu even--Omasu, Okon, Shirojou, Kurojou, Okina, or Aoshi. What did she know about them, anyway?

But when Misao considered the ink color used to compose the note, she knew it was from the old man she had seen on the street. She had only seen black ink before, so this particular color stood out brilliantly: metallic. It was the exact shade that had pierced Misao through the eyes of the old man and the child.

Without a doubt, they would be back. 

**

End notes: ^^ If I get a good response, I'll most likely update in a week from now. I hope you like it so far . . .

Please review! :)


	2. Chapter Two

(12/4/03)

Author's notes: Wow! Five reviews are more than I expected, and more than I'm used to, too. You have my appreciation! ^^

Thanks to **Dynast, Cat-Star4, Ganondorf, UAngel05, **and **Jayekin**!

By the way, I'm really sorry if I don't get things right in this chapter--meaning Japanese traditions and such--as I'm a bit unfamiliar with them. Feel free to correct me if I wrote anything wrong. Are the doors called "shoji"? ^^

And . . . I'm starting to think this chapter isn't much longer than the first, if at all. Well, I think there's more dialogue and descriptive words in this one. There certainly was a lack of those in the previous . . . 

Disclaimer: I don't own Rurouni Kenshin.

Warnings: There's nothing to really be worried about here, unless you get scared easily. But I promise there shouldn't be anything about this chapter that I need to warn you about.

EDIT (12/08): The sentence "Misao had been up in her room when Omasu called her . . ." was changed to "Misao had been outside . . ." I think you might know why I changed it. Sorry about that. ^^

**The Vacated Mind**

**Chapter Two**

_Tick tock tick tock._

The grandfather clock at the end of the dark hallway clicked rhythmically at each second. At the hour, chimes rang through the dusty air, breaking the silence, and at the end of the brief tune, a shush fell once again.

At midnight, Misao awoke to the brassy sound of bells ringing. She listened to it intently, staring up at the ceiling. Before she could realize it, she was listening to a complex symphony of brazen tunes. She shut her eyes tightly, hoping to drain out the sound of blaring, angry instruments and stomping footsteps.

"Stop it," she whispered, not knowing who--or what--exactly she was talking to.

And then it was gone, as if obeying her. Just as the metallic bitterness had faded from the eyes of Misao's new enemies, the music disappeared slowly into the distance.

Yet Misao still did not move even the slightest bit. She knew that it, whatever it was, was still there, waiting hungrily to spring up and attack her the moment she moved.

She quickly swallowed a cry of terror when she heard something scuttle across the floor on the opposite side of the room. However, her effort at silence was wasted when it suddenly flew at her, cracking audibly against her right ankle. It then crashed to the floor upon the impact, leaving Misao scared and out of breath. She heard it crawl away, squeaking. Misao ran her hand across her ankle, feeling two deep gashes.

And cried herself to sleep.

Misao awoke once again at six o'clock that morning. The sun had just risen, pouring rays of light through the window and across the floor.

The floor! What was that on the floor?

"I don't fear you in the daylight," said Misao. She sat up on her futon to prove her point.

But nothing moved.

She squinted her eyes, as they were not yet accustomed to the light. In several spots, almost unnoticeable on the floor, were patches of deep red. Even without a closer look, Misao knew what it was. Suddenly feeling sick, she stepped into her slippers, despite her injured right ankle, and ran into the hallway, dodging splatters of blood.

_Should I tell them?_ Misao contemplated as she made her way outside. Should she tell about the man and his granddaughter? The note? The blood? Should she tell Okina? Aoshi? Omasu? Okon, Shirojou, Kurojou?

Walking down the stone steps, she tripped over a small rock. It instantly shot pain through her right ankle, and she fell to the ground, remembering what had happened that night.

"You're so weak, Misao," she said to herself, glaring ahead, "Can't even stand a little sprained ankle."

She lifted herself off the ground and began to walk, once again regardless of her ankle. She resumed to her thoughts of telling her "family" about the previous events.

"No," Misao concluded aloud a few minutes later. _I won't tell them._ She kicked a stone with her left foot, and watched it fall down the steps, all the way to the bottom.

But she did tell them, that evening at dinner.

Misao had been outside Omasu called her, but she had stayed there, reading, for a while. She was now eating late. So was Aoshi. And Okina had been out running errands, so he had come in late, too.

There was an awkward silence at the low table where the three sat. Misao shifted her position on the floor and looked around the room uncomfortably. The silence was unbearable. Still, she was glad neither of them were talking to her. Not that Aoshi ever talked to her in the first place.

"So--" Okina began to speak. Misao looked up abruptly, almost knocking over her teacup at the sudden interruption from her thoughts, and some of it splashed onto the table in front of her. Okina looked liked he was about to laugh. Across the table, Aoshi casually sipped his tea.

Misao quickly composed herself. "Yes?" she asked. She cautiously swiped at the spilled tea with her hand.

"So . . . how are you doing?" her 'grandfather' asked with a hint of humor in his voice.

She wanted to glare, but Misao kept her expression steadily calm. "I'm fine," she said. "But--" She didn't know whether to tell him or not.

"I think there was something in my room last night," she blurted out before thinking more on the subject.

Okina smiled. "And what do you suppose it was?"

_Does he always act like this?_ Misao thought. She shrugged to him.

"Then, how do you know there was something there?" he asked with faint amusement.

Misao didn't know why she was letting this get to her, but she felt her face grow red. "I _know_ there was something there! I _heard_ it, Jiya--" She stopped when she saw the smile quickly fade from his face.

"Jiya?" he repeated to himself.

Then, quietly, he said, "Let's go check that room of yours." He stood up and started to walk out of the room. Misao followed.

They did not say a word to each other as they walked. When they got there, Misao carefully slid open the door, and looked around without stepping inside.

The blood was gone.

**

End notes: I really hated writing this, but I'm not going to abandon this story like I did my other two. As long as you all like it, I'm fine . . . So, did you?

Thanks again to the following: **Dynast, Cat-Star4, Ganondorf, UAngel05, **and **Jayekin**.

Please review! ^^ 


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